


The First Thanksgiving

by Annehiggins



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie manages to convince Doyle to cook him a traditional American Thanksgiving dinner. Written and posted in the late 90s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Thanksgiving

The First Thanksgiving

by [Anne Higgins](http://www.thecircuitarchive.com/tca/cgi-bin/contact.cgi?author=Anne%20Higgins)

  
Raymond Doyle was irritated. Not that there was anything unusual about that at only five in the morning. Especially on a day off when anyone with a lick of sense was still asleep. The first day off, he might add, in over six weeks. So why was he standing in a cold kitchen cramming bread stuffing into the carcass of a dead turkey?

In a word -- Bodie. His partner, best friend and bloody bane of his existence. Man was a walking stomach. With big, dark blue eyes that could turn on the pathos like no one else. This had all, tragically, collided when, for the first time during their seven-year partnership, they happened to have off the last Thursday in November.

It meant little to Doyle or few others born on this side of the Pond, but Bodie was not a man to let a little detail like international borders keep him from celebrating a day dedicated to eating. 'Why should the Yanks have all the fun?' he'd demanded.

Doyle's suggestion of 'more diet clinics' was met with a pout. Somehow it had ended with Doyle volunteering to cook Bodie dinner.

The damned sod had deliberately misunderstood and produced an American cookbook with detailed instructions on how to fix a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Converting the measurements had been annoying, finding all the ingredients a challenge and just when Doyle had been contemplating roasting Bodie instead of a turkey, Bodie had announced he expected to sit down for this nonsense by 1 p.m.

Doyle's sputtered protests were met with comments of 'because that's the way it's done' and further threats of pouting. So here Doyle was, on the only day off he might get for the rest of the year, stuffing the bird so he could get it in the oven in time for the appointed dinner hour.

He grabbed another handful of the mixture and shoved it inside, his thoughts as dark as the sky outside his window.

'If it irritates you so much, why are you doing it?' he asked himself, but he chose to give the words Bodie's voice.

"Because you asked me to, you prat!" he snapped, snatching up the nearly empty mixing bowl to get the last of the contents into the turkey.

'You could have said no. You do it all the time.'

"I do not!"

The Bodie voice snorted. 'Course you do, sunshine. Got me wrapped around your little finger. Right where we both want me.'

Doyle blinked. Never put his relationship with Bodie into quite those words, but he recognized the truth of it. Unless he felt Doyle was about to make a fatal error, Bodie tended to let Doyle run the partnership. "Why do you do that?" he asked, picking up a heavy gage needle he'd already threaded with a fine twine.

'Lazy?'

Yes, it _was_ easier to sit back and let Doyle do the work, but that didn't seem like the right answer. He pushed the needle into turkey skin and began sewing the opening closed.

'Lack of self-confidence?'

Also possible. Bodie could be an arrogant sod, but he knew his partner wasn't fond of his own looks despite some boasting in that department, so maybe it was all a put up.

He could almost see the Bodie voice smirk. 'Or maybe it's because I know you like being in charge.'

Ah. That would be it. Doyle did like feeling he had some control in the nuthouse he called a life. He'd certainly chafed enough in the early days of their partnership for Bodie to know it. Six weeks of commando tactics training could hardly make Doyle Bodie's equal in a physical situation. That not even counting the differences in their builds. Doyle was no slouch, but even now the villains tended to get the drop on him more often than Bodie. That ... irritated him. Maybe he _had_ established his sense of masculinity by giving orders to the man who defeated those who defeated him.

An interesting notion. He made one last stitch, tied off the twine, then cut it. He picked up a second strand of twine and went to work tying the legs and wings into their proper positions.

'Or it could be a clue to how I want things to go when we finally make love.'

Doyle scowled. "I am not going near a bedroom with you until you get that 'happily ever after' look out of your eyes.'

He'd never been certain when he'd sussed Bodie was in love with him. The knowledge had sort of crept up on him. Hell, maybe it had been after Bodie had complied with the 101st unreasonable thing Doyle had asked of him. He just didn't know. Truth be told, his cock was more than a little interested in Bodie, but Doyle ruthlessly squash such notions. He would _not_ hurt Bodie that way.

A tumble every now and then between birds might make things easier for both of them physically, but answering love with lust could only end in breaking his partner's heart.

'That's very noble of you.'

"I think so. You've got a gorgeous bum," he muttered, shoving the finished bird into his oven. "Be even more of it after you eat all of this lot."

'So why did you do all of this?'

"Because you asked me to!" He'd already answered the question, damnit!

'Was a bit unreasonable of me, wasn't it?'

"Damn, right it was. There's enough food here to feed all of CI5 for a month." They'd probably be eating leftovers until spring. "And what sort of friend is it who makes a bloke get up this hour in the morning just so he can eat at mid-day?"

'An unreasonable one.'

"No, a very unreasonable one."

'So why did you do it?'

Not that again. "Because you asked me to!"

'Why does that matter?'

"Because I -- Oh." Doyle sat down in a kitchen chair with a thump. All the little things Bodie did for him had slowly lead Doyle to the conclusion Bodie loved him. Now, he looked back over the last few months and saw all the little things he'd done for Bodie and came to another conclusion. "Because I love you, too."

* * *

  
Bodie rang the bell fifteen minutes after receiving Doyle's phone call -- "Get over here, you great lump!"

Doyle released the security door, then opened his own door. A moment later, Bodie breezed by him, making straight for the kitchen. To Doyle's disgust he did not look like a man rousted from his bed at an obscene hour, in fact he looked like someone who had been dressed and ready for the call.

He also looked bloody gorgeous. Dressed all in black -- boots, cords and poloneck -- the sight of him made Doyle's jeans uncomfortably tight.

"So what needs doing, oh, great chef?" Bodie asked. "Turkey need stuffing by an expert, does it?"

""s not the turkey I was thinking of stuffing," Doyle answered, grabbing him.

Bodie acted no more surprised by the kiss than the early morning summons. In fact he looked quite aggrieved when their lips parted. "Took you long enough."

"And how do you expect a bloke to figure something out with all this triple think going on?" he demanded, tugging Bodie along behind him as he headed for the bedroom. "Christ, Bodie, you could have just told me that I love you and let me sleep in today."

"And when have you ever listened to me?" Bodie asked, while Doyle stripped him. "Besides, you're always so pleased with yourself when you figure out a puzzle."

A little shove sent Bodie tumbling back onto the mattress, and Doyle took a moment to admire the view before answering, "You've been hanging about with your father too much. Gonna have to change that." He fetched a bottle of lotion from the bathroom cupboard., then returned to the bedroom. "Can't have Cowley corrupting you, pet."

"Your job, is it?" he asked, ridding Doyle of his t-shirt.

"Yeah, now, come here," he said, pulling Bodie into his arms. They made a long, slow exploration of each other's mouths, but as Doyle had suspected, Bodie tended to let him take the lead in things. Which put him in mind of another theory he had about his partner.

Doyle tended to wear his shirts tight and more than one sex partner had assumed it meant he had sensitive nipples. In reality, the opposite was true -- he dressed that way because his nipples were not sensitive enough to be aroused by the press of cloth against them. Well, that and because he knew it looked good.

Now, Bodie, on the other hand, wore his shirts loose and preferred a few layers when the weather allowed. Pushing Bodie back against the mattress, Doyle began kissing his way downward. Across the jaw, along the jugular, across the shoulder blades, then his lips pounced onto the right nipple.

Bodie groaned loudly, arching up even as the nipple hardened.

Doyle smiled around his prize, then set about driving his partner wild with licks, kisses and bites.

Bodie writhed beneath him, then suddenly froze and gasped, "Ray, stop, I'll come."

Reluctantly, Doyle abandoned the tasty flesh, then eyed the weeping cock. He risked a quick flick of his tongue across the head, then had to restrain himself from lapping up more of the pearly fluid. Instead, he snatched up the bottle of lotion, then poured a measure of it into his palm to warm. He hadn't been with a man in a long time, but he'd done a few birds this way in the years since, so he knew what to do. "You done this before?" he asked Bodie, as he pushed the powerful legs apart.

"Yes," Bodie answered, then sighed happily as Doyle pressed a slick finger into him.

Not much resistance, he noted. An observation that remained true when he added a second, then a third finger. "Just how long ago was that last time?" he asked, trying to keep a jealous rage in check.

"Years," Bodie groaned, pushing down on the fingers impaling him.

"Don't lie to me, mate," Doyle warned.

"'m not. I use a. ..." Bodie blushed and made a vague gesture that seemed to indicate length.

A dildo, Doyle decided. Bodie was trying to tell him he wanked with a dildo up his arse. "Call it Raymond, do you?"

The blush deepened.

Doyle stood up, unzipped his jeans, then shoved them off. "So how do I measure up?"

Bodie looked at the freed erection, groaned, then rolled over onto his hands and knees, presenting himself to Doyle. "Get that monster in me," he pleaded. "Now."

A quick rub of lotion along his length, then Doyle granted Bodie's request, sheathing himself up to his balls in one slow stroke. Reaching around the powerful body, one hand went to the neglected left nipple, while the other wrapped around Bodie's cock.

Under such a sensuous assault, Bodie only lasted a few thrusts before he came, his torso collapsing down onto the bed, but he kept his arse up, leaving Doyle free to concentrate on his own pleasure.

Not that he lasted much longer.

* * *

  
The smell of turkey woke Doyle, who found himself curled up and entwined with Bodie. From the look of them, he reckoned it would be difficult for someone to figure out where one man started and the other ended. He liked the notion and allowed himself to snuggle for a few minutes longer.

But there were potatoes to peel, vegetables to chop, dressing to make -- as if they needed it after all the stuffing that had gone into the bird, but it was in the cookbook -- and a table to set. He kissed the top of Bodie's head, then began to disentangle himself.

"Where you going?" Bodie murmured, trying to keep hold of him.

"Got a dinner to get on the table, pet. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah." A smile full of anticipation crossed Bodie's face, and he released Doyle.

If Bodie hadn't started to get up himself, Doyle would have thumped him. Instead Ray stopped him before he could get free of the covers. "No, you stay here, pet," he said. "We've got calories to burn if we're going to eat that lot." He gave Bodie's bum a pat. "I'll be back as soon as I've peeled the potatoes."

"You planning on keeping me barefoot and pregnant, angelfish?"

"Maybe." Metaphorically speaking, of course. "Any objections?"

"No," Bodie purred, settling back in bed. "Not as long as you feed me. And let me up when I need to go to the loo."

"Deal," Doyle answered, then, snatching up his robe, he headed for the kitchen. Food preparation as foreplay. He wondered what Kate Ross would have to say about that?

* * *

  
Doyle allowed Bodie and his well used bum out of bed an hour before dinnertime as he did need a helping hand with the last minute details. Soul of generosity that he was, he even let Bodie get dressed. Not that he planned to let either of them stay clothed for long. Even if his cock was saying it had retired for the next week or so, he figured some snuggling under the covers would be all they were good for later.

Looking at the table straining underneath the food, he amended that to if they could waddle as far as the bedroom. Might have to settle for snogging on the sofa.

He looked at Bodie, who gazed at the table as if it were a glimpse of heaven. "All right, mate, you're the expert on this sodding holiday. Anything we're supposed to do before we eat?"

Bodie nodded. "You're supposed to say what you're thankful for."

He put his hand over Bodie's. "Easy enough. I'm thankful I finally came to my senses, aren't I." He decided to add, "And that you're going to tell Daddy who's laid claim to his blue-eyed boy."

A smile and a nod rewarded him. "And I'm thankful for a green-eye golli, being alive and fit enough to do the job, but most of all ..." his smile broadened and a mischievous glint entered blue eyes " I'm thankful for soft chair cushions."

Doyle laughed, squeezed Bodie's hand, then said, "Let's eat."

\-- THE END --


End file.
